Wonder of the Worlds

by Sesh Heri

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  that Lillie came upon them. The young lady, sensing something, spun about, and came face to face with Lillie. The two locked eyes, then the young lady made a swift retreat.

  Ade stood looking at Lillie, not knowing what to say. Finally, he managed, “Lillie—” That was all he was allowed. Lillie turned away from Ade and left the ballroom. Ade did not see Lillie again for a long time after that. When he did see her, she did not seem particularly interested in conversation. From then on Lillie somehow always seemed to find out where George Ade was bound for in search of a story, and she would always arrive on the scene before he did. She would then write up the story and submit it to her editor, and, of course, the editor would always reject Lillie’s story. “Oh, now, Lillie,” he would say, “just stick to the drama. That’s what you’re good at.”

  On April 3rd, 1893, Buffalo Bill Cody opened his “Wild West Show and Congress of Rough Riders of the World” across from the main entrance of the World’s Fair. Two days earlier, “Amy Leslie” came to interview Buffalo Bill for her book on the fair. In the course of the interview, “Amy Leslie” revealed that she herself had once been a performer, that she was, in fact, Lillie West. This jogged Colonel Cody’s memory; he remembered seeing Lillie on the stage. Now Colonel Cody began interviewing Lillie West, and found out that she considered herself a good marksman; she revealed that she had taken up target shooting as a girl and that she still liked to go bird hunting in the dunes at the southern tip of Lake Michigan. This so delighted the Colonel that he called for Annie Oakley, and when Miss Oakley arrived, he proposed a shoot- ing match between Miss Lillie West and Miss Annie Oakley. The two ladies were game, but agreed to the match only if it were kept a private matter between the three of them. Colonel Cody looked about the arena where they stood and eyed a number of workers and Indians loitering about. He asked if these people’s presence would be allowed. The ladies agreed. And so the match between Annie Oakley and Lillie West commenced. An Indian was recruited to throw the clay targets. Miss Oakley shot first— and hit, of course. Then Miss West shot—and hit. The two ladies continued in this fashion a number of times in quick succession, stopping only to reload their rif les. Somewhere during this match, George Ade walked into the arena. He had come to interview Buffalo Bill as well. When he saw Lillie shooting a rif le alongside Annie Oakley, he stopped in his tracks and watched. And as he watched, he ref lected that Lillie West had beat him to a story once again—and that this day must be in honor of him, for it was April 1st. Ade kept watching. Then—after reloading for yet another time—Lillie missed a shot; Lillie’s rif le sounded, but the clay target continued in an arc across the

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  sky and dropped to the ground with a thud. A hurrah went up from the few onlookers scattered around the arena. Lillie turned around and saw Ade standing there. She gave her rif le to Annie, and said, “Thanks for the match, Miss Oakley,”

  “No,” Annie replied, “thank you, Miss West. It’s not often I can find some- one who can work me up to a lather.” Lillie inclined her head and started out of the arena. She passed Ade who was still standing there. Lillie said, “If you’re looking for Colonel Cody, he’s over there.” Then she continued on her way. Ade said, “That’s some straight shooting—for a woman.”

  Lillie stopped, turned around slowly, and said, “Most of the men I’ve known rarely manage to get a shot off, and when they do, it’s usually in the foot.” Ade stood there speechless as Lillie walked away. Who can say what he felt? I do not know. But, surely, a wall had grown up between Lillie and Ade, and I don’t think either of them really wanted that wall between them. Such was how things stood between George Ade and Lillie West the night they followed Tesla, Cleveland and me to Tesla’s warehouse south of the World’s Fair.

  That night after Lillie left Ade standing alone in the street in front of Tesla’s warehouse, he walked the perimeter of the fairgrounds and finally came upon a hansom cab rattling down a dark street. Ade took the cab back to his lodg- ings where John T. McCutcheon lay in a deep sleep. When Ade came in, McCutcheon came to a groggy wakefulness. “Hey,” McCutcheon asked, “what’s going on with you and Lillie?” “What are you talking about, Mac?” Ade asked, tossing his hat on the desk. “She said you and she saw an airship tonight.” “Did she tell that to anyone else?”

  “Yes, indeed. She told Yost. Not only that, she had a whole story written up with names and addresses of witnesses down on Michigan Avenue who saw the thing f lying over the lake.” Ade took off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. He then sat down on his bed, leaned his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. McCutcheon went on, “Yost is running the story and he had me do a drawing of the airship.”

  Ade said nothing, but just kept holding his head in his hands, looking down into the dark. McCutcheon said, “It’s all coming out tomorrow morning as an extra. What do you say to that? Say, George! What do you say? Did the two of you really see an airship?” “Did Lilly say anything about Grover Cleveland?”

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  “President Cleveland? No. Why?” “Or Mark Twain?” “Mark Twain? No!”

  “How about Nikola Tesla?”

  “Tesla? Tesla? Wait a minute. What are you getting at?” “Never mind. It’s nothing.” “Nothing? Nothing! Sure.”

  “Look—it’s better you don’t know. Just forget I said anything.” “You and Lilly! What a pair!”

  “All right, Mac. You want to know? We saw it. We saw the airship. Just like she said. It’s an invention of Nikola Tesla’s. We saw Tesla and Cleveland in the ship’s pilothouse. And Mark Twain was at the pilot’s wheel.” “George, have you been drinking?”

  “I’m telling you what we saw. Believe it, or don’t. But that’s what we saw.” “You’re not drunk, and you’re not laughing.” “I’m not laughing.”

  McCutcheon let out a long, low whistle in the dark. “What a story!” McCutcheon said, “And we got it!” “We?” “You and Lillie and me.”

  “Lillie does not work with us.” “I think she will after this.” “Lillie is a very headstrong woman. There is a lot she doesn’t understand—you know what I mean—about the way the world works. If she doesn’t watch out, she’s going to get herself into a lot of trouble. She’s going to get us all in a lot of trouble.” “Oh. She’s going to get us in trouble. For a minute I thought you were just worried about Lillie.”

  “I’m beat,” Ade said, loosening his tie. He took off his collar, slipped off his shoes, and lay back on his bed. In a moment or two, his snoring was keeping McCutcheon awake.

  The next morning, Ade left his rooming house and took a streetcar headed north up State Street for downtown. He intended to go to the offices of the Record and test the waters there with Yost and Dennis. Ade did not know what the reaction to Lillie’s story would be, but he knew that, whatever it would be, it would be in the form of some kind of trouble. Ade had only traveled a couple of blocks when he caught sight of a News- boy at a corner selling the Record. Ade jumped off the streetcar. The Newsboy was shouting, “Extra! Extra! Read all about it: Mystery Air- ships Over Lake Michigan! Extra! Extra! Read it in the Record!” “I’ll take one of those,” Ade said, dropping two pennies in the Newsboy’s hand.

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  “Thanks, mister,” the boy said, handing over the paper.

  Ade looked at the front page. He saw that Lillie had not been given a by- line—no “Amy Leslie,” no “Lillie West.” Ade ran his eye over the story. There was McCutcheon’s drawing of the airship: a black cigar silhouetted against a moon half-shrouded in clouds. There was nothing in the article about Tesla, or President Cleveland, or me, or a warehouse. Instead, it was only an account describing a crowd blocking traffic on Michigan Avenue while they stared up at two airships f lying through the sky. Perhaps Lillie had listened to him after all, Ade thought. Ade folded the Newspaper and decided to forget about going to the Record. He had to see Lillie. He felt he had to find her before she did something else to make matters
even worse. Ade started walking north up State Street toward the Great Northern Ho- tel. If he knew Lillie, he told himself, that is where she would be this morning. Ade made his way up State Street until he reached the intersection of Van Buren. As he walked along State Street in that vicinity, he passed a storefront hung with banners and displaying a garishly painted sign that read “Globe Dime Museum.” Ade glanced at the sign, but did not break his pace; he kept marching toward Jackson Street. There he crossed the intersection over to the north side of Jackson, and turned left to cross State Street, heading for the Great Northern Hotel a block away. In a moment, Ade caught sight of Lillie up ahead in the crowd. He quick- ened his pace and caught up with her. When he came up beside Lillie, he opened the Newspaper and held it out in front of her. “You still don’t have a by-line,” Ade said. “Keep watching,” Lillie said. “I will.”

  Lillie kept walking, not breaking her pace for an instant. Ade kept walking beside her. “There’s no mention of Tesla,” Ade said. “Nor of Cleveland. Nor of Mark Twain.” “Why not?” “That’s for tomorrow’s edition. Part Two of the story. Front page. Where my by-line will be. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Lillie quickened her pace and turned the corner at Dearborn, heading for the Great Northern’s main entrance. Ade caught up with Lillie.

  Ade asked, “Going to see Mark Twain, eh?”

  Lillie shot a glance at Ade and kept going. Ade caught up with her again as she entered the lobby of the hotel. “You look lovely this morning, Lillie,” Ade said. “Oh, please.” “You have my full attention—just as you did last night.”

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  “I didn’t seem to have your full attention at the Exposition Ball.” “That heiress? She meant nothing to me but a story.” Lillie stopped in the middle of the lobby.

  “Well,” she said, “You had your ‘story.’ So now why don’t you let me have mine?” “I’d like to. But I worry about you.” “What on earth for?” “I’m afraid you’re going to get into something you can’t get out of.” “And you’ve decided you’re going to be the one to get me out of it.” “Maybe.” Lillie started off across the lobby again, toward the hotel’s main restaurant, with Ade at her elbow.

  “Maybe you’re the one who is in need of rescuing,” Lillie said. “Moi?”

  “Maybe you’re going to get into something you can’t get out of. And when you do—you better hope I’m around.” Lillie and Ade stopped on the threshold of the restaurant. They saw me sitting at one of the tables with Fred Hall. “There he is,” Ade said. “Let me handle this.” “Why you?”

  “Mark Twain is an old newspaperman from way back. And I know old newspapermen.” “My father was an old newspaperman,” Lillie said, “and he always told me to watch out for young newspapermen. We’ll both handle it.”

  Lillie and Ade approached our table. Ade stepped forward and took off his hat, holding it against the folded Newspaper in his left hand. “Excuse me, sir,” Ade said smoothly, “but… aren’t you Mark Twain?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied to Ade in the hale and hearty tones of Mark Twain. “I’ve been sittin’ here the last half hour hopin’ somebody’d notice, haven’t I, Hall?” I looked back up to Ade, and added, “I’m as vain as a cat and almost as smart.” “George Ade,” the young reporter said, holding out his right hand. I shook hands with him. “I’m a big admirer of your works,” Ade said. Lillie nudged Ade with her elbow.

  “Oh,” Ade said, “and please allow me to introduce my friend, Miss Lillie West.”

  I rose to my feet, and said, “Charmed. We have met before, have we not? At the Daily News?” Lillie seemed to catch her breath for a moment, and then said, “At the door.”

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  “At the door,” I said.

  “I’m surprised you’d remember,” she said.

  “I’m surprised you’d think I’d forget,” I replied. “Are you folks staying at the hotel?” “No,” Ade said. “Actually—we’re reporters.” “Oh.”

  Ade said, “I’m with the Chicago Record, and Miss West is with the Chicago Daily News.”

  “What can I do for you?” I asked.

  “Well,” Ade said,” you see, I… that is, we… were wondering if you’d consent to an interview?” “This time of morning? I make it a rule never to give interviews in the morning.” I looked over to Hall, and added, “Nor in the evening, come to think of it.”

  Ade took a half step toward me. I turned to him and said, “Interviews are unwise—day or night.” “But—” Ade started.

  “Young man!” I said, dropping the Mark Twain mask. “I am very busy! We were just finishing breakfast. Perhaps you could see Mr. Hall later this after- noon. Mr. Hall is my business associate and is handling all the details of my schedule for this trip.” Lillie said, “Can’t we just have five minutes of your time?” “Well—” “Three minutes,” she offered.

  “You’re persistent,” I said. “I like that—” “Thank you—” “—in a man. Hate it in a woman.”

  Lillie held my gaze. She did not blink, f linch, or fidget. I kept looking at her, and she kept looking back at me. “Have a seat, Miss,” I said. “I’ll give you two minutes.” I looked at Ade as I sat down, and said, “You too.” Lillie and Ade sat across from me. I took out a cigar. “Now just what did you want to interview me about?” “The fair,” Ade said. “And your friend. Mr. Tesla,” Lillie added. Ade shot a glance at Lillie, and then looked back to me. “Oh,” I said, “Mr. Tesla.” I lit the cigar.

  “What about him?” I asked.

  “He’s a wonder,” Ade said. “Isn’t he?” “I’d say so. Wonder of the world.” “May I quote you on that?” Lillie asked.

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  “If you’d like. But I’m only quoting what you Newspaper people have already said about him.” “You’re a great admirer of his theories, aren’t you?” Lillie asked.

  “Well, I… now—do you want to interview me or Tesla? He can tell you more about his theories than I ever could.” Lillie said, “I want to know what you think about Mr. Tesla’s ideas. From your point of view. You’ve been to his laboratory in New York many times, have you not?” “I have, along with a lot of other people. New York society, mostly. I usually go there with Joseph Jefferson. You know—the actor?” “Rip Van Winkle,” Ade said.

  I nodded. “Ol’ ‘Pool-Cue’ Jefferson, Tesla and I call him; he’s always ready for a game of billiards. Ol’ ‘Pool’ and I go to Tesla’s and have a hootin’, howlin’ time juggling electric lightnin’ bolts at each other.” Ade asked, “But all these fireworks of Tesla’s—aren’t they just some kind of sideshow?” “Now, if I thought for one second that you really believed that, young man, I’d say you were a complete idiot. You asked me about the fair. Tesla’s electri- cal system is going to light that fair and run every machine in it for over a square mile. You call that a sideshow? It’s a reality. Tesla isn’t just promising us the future—he’s built it—and he is setting it running on the shores of Lake Michigan—lock, stock, and barrel.” “What about Thomas Edison?” Lillie asked. “He has a system of electricity.”

  “Direct current, yes, D.C. Tesla’s system is alternating current, A.C. Direct current electricity can only be transported about a mile before it loses power. Every mile you’ve got to build another electrical power generating plant. Do you have any idea of the cost of wiring the whole country for electricity when you’ve got to build an electrical generating plant every square mile? Well, I’ll tell you, the cost has been figured—and it’s prohibitive.” “But Mr. Edison—” Lillie started to say. “Mr. Edison,” I said, ”knows how to keep his mouth shut and milk the cow ‘til she runs dry.”

  Ade asked, “Well, doesn’t Mr. Tesla’s system have the same problem? Doesn’t it lose power over distance?” “No, sir,” I said, “it doesn’t. Alternating current can be transported through wires for hundreds of miles without losing any significant power. In fact, it’s probably possible to transport it thousands of miles.” Ade said, “It sounds like you think Tesla c
ould do anything.” “I don’t know,” I said, “maybe he could.” “Could he build an airship?” Ade asked. “You’re referring to that Newspaper article,” I said. “So you’ve seen my article,” Lillie said.